


The One Where Phoebe Can't Write a Song

by GeckoGirl89



Category: Friends (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Homelessness, Loss of Parent(s), More Depressing than Canon, Phoebe POV, Phoebe-centric, Post-Canon, Song writing, Suicide, parental abandonment, parental neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeckoGirl89/pseuds/GeckoGirl89
Summary: It's all too much, and Phoebe can't write about it no matter how hard she tries.





	The One Where Phoebe Can't Write a Song

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Any, any, realizing that they are now older than their deceased parent(s) had ever been" on comment-fic: http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/820187.html?thread=103672795#t103672795
> 
> After thinking about that prompt for longer than five seconds, I realized that it would work very well for Phoebe. There's not very many characters who have a backstory as sad as hers is, and I hope I did it justice here. I usually find Phoebe more difficult to write than most of the other characters on this show, and it was really hard to write her in this kind of angsty story. I wanted to touch on the deep angst she probably has about Lily while still keeping her as in-character as possible. Writing this story was rough on me emotionally, and it will probably be tough for the reader as well.

Phoebe has been writing songs ever since she was able to scrape together enough money (some of which had been taken from nerds she had beaten up, shamefully enough) for a guitar at seventeen years old. Her life on the street hadn't afforded many luxuries for her, but she had been willing to sacrifice several meals for that one.  
  
For Phoebe, songwriting has always been a way for her to express herself. She'd sing about the details of her daily life and experiences, everything from the first time she'd grown pubic hair to the time she'd been in a blackout.  
  
And, of course, she'd written a few songs about her mother's death.  
  
But this time, it isn't working for her. She'd scribbled a few lines on her little songwriting notepad, only to scratch them out seconds later. She'd tried strumming her guitar, but none of the chords she had played sounded right. For the first time in her life, Phoebe had caught writer's block.  
  
Earlier that day, when she'd been at her fortieth birthday party with her husband Mike, their two kids, and all of her friends surrounding her, she'd felt a build-up of emotion that usually meant she was inspired to write a song. It had suddenly struck Phoebe that she was now older than her mom had ever gotten a chance to be.  
  
Not her birth mother, Phoebe, who she'd called last week and was still alive and living in Montauk. No, Lily, the woman who raised her. Phoebe knew her as the woman with the bright smile who baked the world's best chocolate chip cookies thanks to Grandma's special recipe. She was the person who tucked Phoebe and Ursula in at night and fixed their boo-boos with Band-aids and a kiss to the affected area.  
  
But her bright smile disappeared after Frank abandoned his first family. For several months after that, Phoebe heard sobbing at night after Lily had tucked her and Ursula in for bedtime. More and more often, Phoebe and Ursula had to fix their scraped knees by themselves. Then one cold January afternoon, Phoebe had arrived home after playing out in the snow with her friends to find her mom's dead body in the kitchen. Instead of the hot chocolate and warm greetings she had been looking forward to, Phoebe had gotten police breaking down her door after she screamed so loudly that the neighbors called the cops. Phoebe didn't get to grow up gradually the way most kids did. No, Phoebe was forced into adulthood and homelessness in one frickin' day. Talk about a raw deal!  
  
Phoebe wishes she could use her anger to write a song now. Because, after all this time, she's still pissed off that Lily did that to her. She was destroyed by Frank's abandonment, but she should have stayed, because Phoebe and Ursula were still there and still needed her to take care of them. After having kids of her own, Phoebe is even more bitter about what her mom did. Because the first time she held Mike Jr. and Skye in her arms, she knew she would do anything to make them happy. She could never picture herself hurting them the way her mom hurt her.  
  
But at the same time, there's a part of Phoebe that feels guilty for resenting her mom for her suicide. Phoebe tries to be a compassionate person, and she feels like a horrible person every time she can't summon understanding for her own depressed mother. And there's also a tiny part of her that feels like it was her fault. Phoebe had known her mom was sad, but she'd had no idea that her mom had been sad enough to stick her head in the oven. Maybe if she'd paid more attention, been a better daughter, gotten all As in school, or not fought with Ursula so much, Lily would still be here.

It's all too much, and Phoebe can't write about it no matter how hard she tries. Her songs are usually pretty lighthearted anyway, something amusing that entertains people or something that expresses her annoyance at something. Even the songs she's written about her mom are more morbid black humor than depressing angst. They don't even get close to expressing the horror and sorrow she felt when Lily died.  
  
The ink of her scratched-out writing smears on the paper, and Phoebe realizes that she's crying. That's not like her. Even right after her mom's death, Phoebe couldn't cry long. She was homeless, and she couldn't indulge herself by wallowing in sadness, not when she had to worry about where she was going to sleep that night. Plus, Phoebe has always tried to be an upbeat person who's optimistic about life rather than someone who concentrates on the bad stuff. Her mom dwelled on the negatives, and look at what happened to her.  
  
Phoebe feels a warm hand settle gently on her shoulder and instantly recognizes it as her husband's. She closes her eyes and leans into his touch for a few seconds. Phoebe is still just as in love with Mike as she was the day they got married, and she's grateful for him everyday. She's thankful for the love, the family, and the domestic normalcy he gave her, which were all things she felt like she had lost forever at fourteen years old.  
  
She hears Mike yawning. "What are you doing up, Phoebe? It's almost 1 a.m."  
  
She wipes her hand over her eyes before she turns to face Mike and answer his question. "I was gonna write a song."  
  
"Oh cool, what's it about? Do you have anything yet?"  
  
Phoebe loves how Mike is musical like her. He's always interested in hearing what she's written, and it gives them a nice connection. Mike really is perfect for her in so many ways.  
  
Phoebe shakes her head, feeling insecure and disappointed with herself. She hopes Mike isn't disappointed in her too. "Not yet. It was going to be about my mom, y'know, the one who killed herself. She died when she was 39, and today made me think about it 'cause now I'm older than she ever was. I couldn't even come up with good chords."  
  
His hand massages her shoulder, but he doesn't say anything for a few moments. Phoebe is glad he doesn't, because this is hard to think about, much less talk about. Mike also knows her artistic process, how the melody often occurs to her before the words. The fact that Phoebe can't come up with chords proves that she was really struggling with her song.  
  
"Maybe it needs piano, not the guitar. I could help you work on it tomorrow, if you want."  
  
Phoebe smiles weakly. She's not sure if the words will come any easier with a piano accompaniment, but maybe it will be easier to face these emotions with Mike by her side.  
  
"Maybe. It could be our first collaboration."  
  
Mike smiles lovingly at her. "Yeah. A Buffay-Hannigan original. It might take a while, but it could end up being even better than 'Smelly Cat.'"  
  
Phoebe grins, remembering when she wrote her magnum opus. "You know, that one took me two days to write."  
  
"Well, there you go. Sometimes the really good ones don't come easy. I've bet you've got something amazing in the works."  
  
"I hope so." Her head slumps against Mike hand as she yawns. It's getting pretty late, and Phoebe is exhausted.  
  
"You'll probably have better luck with it tomorrow. A fresh mind and all that," Mike suggests.  
  
"Yeah, you're right," she agrees. Phoebe stands up and walks over to the case where she keeps her guitar, carefully taking it off with the strap and locking it up in the case so that it won't get damaged by Skye or Mike Jr. accidentally running over it tomorrow.  
  
She sees Mike standing a few feet away from her near the entrance to the living room, right in front of the hallway that leads to their bedroom.  
  
Phoebe joins him, and Mike wraps his arm around her shoulders as they walk back to their bedroom together. Before they open their bedroom door, Phoebe feels her confidence returning.  
  
_Tomorrow,_ she tells herself. _I'll write it tomorrow._ With Mike holding her, Phoebe feels like she can take on the whole world.


End file.
